


Finished

by ispun



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ispun/pseuds/ispun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- black flag<br/>- didn't happen</p><p>- set after Silverstone when Seb and Jev both DNF'd.<br/>- basically PWP.</p></blockquote>





	Finished

Jean-Eric’s walking back to his motorhome, too pissed off to watch the end of the race. _Fucking tyres_ , he thinks to himself. _For fuck’s sake_. This season was meant to be the one when he proved to Red Bull that he was the right choice and every race, something goes wrong with his car. And now Dan’s doing the Red Bull testing and...well. Just for fuck’s sake. He hears someone walking quickly behind him and is surprised to see Seb there, head down, arms folded. Without thinking, he calls to him, and as soon as Jean-Eric asks why Seb isn’t at the race, he wants to kick himself. Whyever he’s there, it’s not going to be for a good reason, and he’s really meant to keep on Seb’s good side. Seb stops anyway, looks up at Jean-Eric.

“DNF’d. Gearbox. Fucking bastards cheered when I went off.” He kicks roughly at the ground, clearly agitated. Jean-Eric knows the feeling. All that adrenaline, you’re so pumped up, and then there’s nowhere for it to go. And the fans seem to _hate_ Seb, which must only make it harder.

Jean-Eric’s not sure how it happens. He just knows that somehow they’ve ended up in Seb’s motorhome which, Jean-Eric notes, is far nicer than his own, and that he’s kneeling behind Seb who’s bent over the coffee table, chest and stomach flat against the tabletop. Jean-Eric’s been with guys before, been with Dan even, but it’s always been drunken blow jobs, jacking off in the same hotel room, getting off on the other guy’s noises. But now he’s leaning into Seb and licking a wet stripe over Seb’s arsehole and Seb’s groaning so Jean-Eric does it again, keeps doing it, touching his own cock through his overalls.

Whether it’s the adrenaline, Jean-Eric doesn’t know, but this just feels right. It sure as hell feels better than sitting alone in the garage, waiting for Dan to come back, jubilant with his points and pretending to be anything like happy for him. And the noises Seb’s making are obscene, really, and the way he’s stroking his cock, like he can’t decide whether he should just let go while Jean-Eric tongues at him or whether he should hold out til Jean-Eric’s fucking him.

There’s lube and condoms on the table beside him and Jean-Eric doesn’t know why Seb has them, who he was expecting to fuck this weekend. Or who he was expecting to be fucked by, more likely, since Seb had got down on his knees pretty fucking quickly. Jean-Eric doesn’t want to dwell on it. Doesn’t want to consider the possibilities. Mark? Christian? Jean-Eric shakes the thoughts out of his head. Right now, it doesn’t matter. Seb is on his knees, legs spread, begging Jean-Eric now, gazing back at him with those blue eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. For now, this is all for him, and if he never gets to drive with Seb, at least he has this. This beautiful - and really, thinks Jean-Eric, in this moment, Seb is beautiful - boy, looking so filthy and debauched, his blonde hair a mess from where Jean-Eric had gripped it earlier, his skin marked with Jean-Eric’s teeth and fingers, his hand on his cock as Jean-Eric plies him open with slick fingers. It’s almost too much for Jean-Eric to bear, the need in Seb’s eyes. He wants to climb inside him, to know what Seb feels every day, how it feels to win and keep on winning. But at the same time, he sees a vulnerability, a self-hatred, some kind of loathing that Jean-Eric has never felt. A coldness. But something in that just turns Jean-Eric on more, makes him want to reach this part of Seb that is so far away from what he shows to everyone in the paddock.

Jean-Eric rolls a condom on, applies more lube, pushes himself into Seb. Seb groans, his fingers struggling for grip on the glass of the coffee table. When he starts thrusting into Seb, Jean-Eric can hardly stop himself coming straight away. Seb is so fucking tight and the way his muscles squeeze Jean-Eric’s cock makes him need to stop and grit his teeth, his fingers bruising into Seb’s thigh.

Seb’s looking back at him again, head down on the coffee table, and Jean-Eric finds himself unable to look away. He watches the play of emotions on Seb’s face, the way he bites his lip, eyes squeezing closed, trying to hold onto something like control until it’s completely taken away. But then Seb’s gasping and spilling white onto the glass coffee table below, and the sight of Seb coming undone pushes Jean-Eric over the edge and he can’t hold on, not with how Seb’s muscles are contracting around him, and he thrusts deep into Seb, his orgasm making his whole body go still and tense. 

Seb sits up gingerly, letting Jean-Eric pull out of him, throw the condom haphazardly towards a bin. Looking Jean-Eric in the eye, he licks off his fingers, cleaning them of his own come and Jean-Eric knows, _knows_ , in that moment that this is some sort of come-on, some sort of sign that he can come back, that he has passed this test that he didn’t even know was a test. He watches as Seb licks his palm, his gaze never leaving Jean-Eric’s face. And Jean-Eric wonders how into this Seb is, if he could tell him to lick it off the table as well, but he decides not to chance it, to wipe the table up himself with a t-shirt.

They’re pulling their overalls back on over sensitive skin when there’s a knock at the door and Seb rolls his eyes and goes to open it. Of all the people to be standing there, Jean-Eric didn’t expect Daniel, and by the look on Dan’s face, the feeling is mutual.

“Oh,” says Dan, when he’s stopped gawping. “I...hey, Jean-Eric. Seb...I...”

“Did you want something?” Seb asks.

“I guess not,” Daniel replies and he recovers quickly, the grin plastered on his face as Seb shuts the door, practically in his face. And yeah, now Jean-Eric knows who was going to be using that lube. Is it how he got the test? He pushes the thought out of his mind. Dan’s his _friend_ , it’s not nice to think like that. 

But anyway, Seb’s looking at Jean-Eric, and for the first time since he met Seb this afternoon, he looks the slightest bit relaxed, and as Jean-Eric walks back to your motorhome, he can’t help thinking that the DNF wasn’t the worst result he could have had today.

**Author's Note:**

> \- black flag  
> \- didn't happen
> 
> \- set after Silverstone when Seb and Jev both DNF'd.  
> \- basically PWP.


End file.
